Evelyn is a boy?
Evelyn is a boy. And I am not very well read. It's like that time when I thought Seamus Heaney was pronounced 'see-mus hee-ney' and a girl. And discovered that to my dismay, the bulk of my AP English class knew that that wasn't the case. Then, many moons later, for that brief year when I subscribed to The New Yorker, I would see his poems grace those pages. Sometimes I'd read the poems. Most often, I didn't. But seeing them made me think that I had somehow become smarter, more sophisticated, or at least better at pretending, than my younger days.
Then I discovered that Evelyn was a boy. And did boy-ish things like fight in battles. And realized that I had to swallow my words about favorite female authors because Evelyn wasn't one of them. Well, I still like my Alice, Lorrie, and Flannery, and I'm pretty sure they're still girls. But Evelyn isn't. Why can't everyone just stick to culturally imposed gender norms when naming your children? We must follow the example of Scotland, where every girl I meet is either Heather or Fiona, and every boy a Dave or Andy.
Oh, yes, this means that I'm back from Geneva. I can't post pictures yet, or even begin to talk about the trip, because I am very hungry and still away from my computer in Eddie Bert. Presently recuperating in home away from home away from home, will see you soon as I'm caught up on food, sleep, and yes, perhaps some Eurovision.
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